Nanoha Takamachi and the Wizarding World
by Ryvaken Lucius Tadrya
Summary: The White Devil is back at Hogwarts for another year, only this time she has to deal with a part time mage job as well as mysterious attacks, an old injustice, and a boy-hero who can't go two months without putting his life in danger. Book two of the Lyrical Witch series.
1. Dobby Defeated

Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha and the Wizarding World; Lyrical Witch Two

Chapter 1: Dobby Defeated

_My name's Nanoha Takamachi, and I'm eleven years old. I used to be an ordinary kid, but two years ago I met a talking ferret and entered a world of magic. I made some really good friends and a year ago got to go to a school with even more magic! It's dangerous some of the time, but I really like it._

_After school let out a few months ago I started texting Harry almost every day. His relatives make him work really hard and I don't think they like him much. The weirdest thing, though, every time I've sent him a letter by owl, it never got to him._

Nanoha shook her head at her phone. "I don't believe this."

She was sitting at home, working quietly at a table while her family went about their day. It was a bit like being back in the Ravenclaw common room at Hogwarts, except it was completely different. For one thing, at Hogwarts she wouldn't be studying a science textbook, _Hogwarts, a History_, _Honored History of Mahoutokoro School of _Magic, and _TSAB Air Force Academy: An Introduction_. She also wouldn't have her sister, Miyuki, sitting next to her trying to get her head around differential equations.

Miyuki glanced over. "What happened?" she asked.

"Remember how I blew my allowance on a postcard to Harry?" Nanoha asked glumly.

Miyuki thought back a bit. "Oh, right. Because of the owls not getting there."

"Yeah. I thought maybe a regular mailman would have more luck."

"Did it?" Miyuki asked.

"Harry's uncle burned the letter in front of him."

Miyuki blinked. "You're kidding."

"I'm really not," Nanoha said glumly. "They're not nice people."

"Understatement," Miyuki snorted.

"Yeah."

"Why are you worrying about this so much?" Miyuki asked. "It's bad, but it's not like you can't keep in touch."

"Fate and I are the only ones Harry's talked to all summer," Nanoha protested. "Ron, Hagrid, and Hermione are really frustrated. And I can't believe the other Gryffindor's haven't tried to send a postcard or...or something. And it's almost his birthday, and we can't send him any gifts."

"I thought you got Ron a magic-proof phone for Christmas."

"His father got his hands on it."

"Yeesh, another mean parent?"

"No," Nanoha said quickly. "Just...really enthusiastic about electronics. And he doesn't know a lot about them."

Miyuki winced at the combination. "Bye bye phone."

"Yeah."

"Look kiddo, I know you're worried about your friend, but don't freak out too hard, okay? You still need to decide where you're headed to school." It had been absurdly obvious after Nanoha got back from her first year at Hogwarts that she was _not_ going back to any school her family had ever heard of. She liked helping people and she had strong magical powers, her career choices were going in that direction. Given her father's former line of work, no one could fault her for it either.

"Yeah," Nanoha sighed. "It's not easy to just pick one," she complained. "The Air Force Academy would help me and Raising Heart the most, but..."

"But?" Miyuki pressed.

"Well, I think I could get through the course work in summer classes. I mean, this is really easy." She waved her hand over the TSAB primer and it projected a three dimensional representation of a decompressed magical circle that made Miyuki's brain hurt. "This is supposed to be for advanced students, but all you have to do is connect these nodes," Nanoha casually adjusted the image and the eldritch abomination mutated into a Belkan triangle, "and there it is. Easy."

Miyuki shook her head at just how smart her sister was. No, that wasn't quite right. Skilled, that was better. Nanoha still didn't quite get how extraordinary her regimen of training simulations and telepathic educational supplements was. "What about Mahoutokoro?"

Nanoha made a bit of a face at that one. "The tour was nice but they seemed a bit freaked by my wand." Cherry wands were prized by Japanese wizards, but the combination of cherry and dragon heart was one of the most volatile in wandlore, and usually signified a witch whose raw power was to be respected, whatever her age or skill. "They were also a little traditional and, um..."

"Sycophantic?" Miyuki suggested.

"Probably," Nanoha agreed as Raising Heart explained the word to her. "They traced Dad to the Fuwa clan and bam, I'm a samurai-witch and offered a position among the Malfoys in the school."

"Malfoy? Oh, one of the Hogwarts students?"

"Yeah," Nanoha said. "He's convinced he's better than everyone else in the school. Probably the world." She blinked. "I wonder if coming from a samurai clan would leave an impression on him."

Miyuki snorted. "He'll grow out of that. So, that leaves Hogwarts."

Nanoha nodded without enthusiasm. "Which is really far from home and not really helpful with being a mage."

Miyuki thought that over a bit. "You're ranked what, AAA?"

"AAA air combat," Nanoha corrected.

"Right, and Fate?"

"Same as me," Nanoha said.

"What about Hayate?"

"AAA+ composite," Nanoha said. "She'd probably only rank around B air combat."

"So the TSAB values mages with weird skills?"

"Yeah...heeey," Nanoha gave her sister a punch on the shoulder. "You tricked me!"

"So are you telling Mom that you're heading back to Hogwarts or do you want me to?"

* * *

"So, Nanoha is going back to Hogwarts?" Lindy asked

Fate nodded. Like Nanoha, she was studying at home over the summer, but her most of her texts came straight from schools on MidChilda. She also had a small collection of local books that she was using to help deal with some of the eccentricities of Earth cultures. One, _The Magical Guide to Muggles_, she was planning on gifting to the Takamachis. They would doubtless find it hilarious. "Yeah. She's going to look into a correspondence course and summer lessons with the Academy."

Lindy considered her adopted daughter carefully. While Nanoha had pushed an impossible amount of education into two short years, Fate had been born...created with much of that knowledge in place and then trained to use what she had been...programmed with. Not for the first time she silently cursed Presea Testarossa for her innumerable crimes against their daughter. One of those crimes was the brutal isolation the child had underwent before meeting Nanoha.

It was absolutely stunning the difference a single term at Hogwarts had made in Fate. She was a serious child, goal-oriented, even dour. But over Christmas she was laughing and teasing and had a _life_ to her that normally only shone in the middle of pitched combat against a worthy opponent. "That sounds like a good idea" Lindy said. "If she went to the Academy she'd be enrolled with much older students."

"She's a year ahead at Hogwarts, Mom," Fate grumbled.

"Better than five or ten years," Lindy pointed out. "Ask Chrono how the Enforcer training was for him some time."

Fate drummed her fingers. "Hogwarts was pretty fun," she said wistfully.

Lindy smiled. "I'll make the arrangements then."

Fate startled. "But Mom, I haven't decided yet."

Lindy just kept smiling. "Yes you have." She got up and headed to her den. "And when you figure it out, I'll be ready."

Fate just stared after her mother. "How can she know what my decision is?" she asked no one. "I don't even know what it is." She looked down at Bardiche. "Am I that predictable?"

"Yes sir."

"You were not supposed to agree, Bardiche."

* * *

"And you'll be?" the large man asked nastily.

"I'll be up in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," the child answered dully.

"Too right you will."

All things considered, being ignored was better than Harry Potter usually expected for a birthday. In his whole life he only had two good birthdays. The first was when he was one year old, which he only remembered through photographs. The other was just last year, when he made his first friend. Between those two, birthdays were just a day of chores. Sometimes extra chores, just to drive home the point. But those were better than the years that no one remembered at all.

You see, Harry lived with his aunt and uncle ever since his parents were murdered by a madman called Voldemort. Tragic enough on its own, but Harry wasn't just a victim of a psychopath. He was a wizard, like his parents before him. And, well, his aunt didn't like that. And his uncle really didn't like it. And because of it, neither of them liked him.

Things were looking better this year, if only because the Dursleys were terrified of him. A couple nonsense words would send Dudley screaming. Aunt Petunia was made of sterner stuff, she was pretty sure that he couldn't do any real magic at home, but she didn't think about it much. That would mean thinking about her sister. Her chest always hurt when she was forced to think about the freakishness she endured as a child.

Then there was Uncle Vernon. He was a lot louder than Petunia, with a shorter temper and a lot more muscle. Petunia was more dangerous when she got mad, but Vernon was _always_ dangerous. He'd yell and rant and even throw things.

Harry idled most of his day wandering around the yard. Long experience made him nearly as good a cook as Petunia, but he was never allowed to cook anything important. He might contaminate the meal. Worse, he might be complimented for it.

Harry pulled out his cellphone once he was well out of sight of Number 4. Keeping the phone a secret had nearly driven him spare, but it was worth it. He found a bunch of texts waiting and grinned. He left the thing on silent, not even letting it vibrate. If the Dursleys ever had a clue that he wasn't isolated...well Nanoha's letter was still fresh in his memory.

Hm. A few messages from Nanoha and Fate. Nothing exciting, really, but he read every word like it was the best novel in the world. Then a real gem, a full transcribed letter from Ron. He didn't get much from Ron or Hermione since every word had to be copied by Nanoha. Apparently Mr. Weasley had tried to fix the "tell fone" again and had managed to turn it into a chicken. (Harry quickly resolved not to ask how that had happened. He was afraid it might make sense.) And Mr. Weasley had no luck finding out if the department in charge of owls had found out where Harry's mail was going. The owls all came back just fine, so clearly they were being delivered. No one had risked addressing letters to one of the Dursleys – Harry had made it very clear that the letter vanishing was a best case scenario for such a test.

Harry sent off some replies and checked the phone's time. Almost supper. He hid it away and turned back. Back at the Dursley's Petunia shoved a bit of bread and a wedge of cheese at him and then Vernon tossed him in his room. Harry sighed and sat on his bed.

Only, someone was sitting on it.

Well, some_thing_.

And that was how the Boy Who Lived met the Elf Who Ruined the Japanese Golfer Joke.

* * *

Harry studied the closet for a long moment. He had a slightly deranged house elf in his closet. A slightly deranged house elf demanding he renounce his only way out of this horrible house and, more than that, was making no effort to _not_ get Harry in trouble with his relatives. He'd gotten a warning, the next to come would be throwing stuff, and if things got really bad Vernon might hit him. Maybe if he left the elf in there he'd be quiet.

But then, Dobby would never leave. And it wasn't like Harry could just never open the closet again. Wincing, he opened the door. "_Please_ be quiet, Dobby," he begged.

That, clearly, was the wrong thing to say. "Please!" Dobby shrieked. "Never, _never_ has Dobby been _asked_ to do something, sir!"

"Dobby, if you aren't quiet, that big muggle is going to come up here and kill me," Harry whispered urgently. "And if I don't go back to Hogwarts, same thing!" He flinched at the sound of his own voice. Why couldn't he keep it under control? Was Dobby infectious? Lose-control-of-voice-flu?

Dobby looked down at the floor. "Dobby is thinking the fat muggle is not so dangerous to Harry Potter as Hogwarts."

Harry rolled his eyes. _That_ was a right laugh. "But Dobby, even if it is a bit dangerous, I've got friends at Hogwarts. I'm all alone here. I can't even do magic."

"Friends that don't even write to Harry Potter?" Dobby asked.

Harry had a denial on his tongue when his brain caught up with him. His eyes narrowed. "How did you know about that?" he asked dangerously.

Dobby flinched. "Harry Potter must not be angry with Dobby."

"What did you do?" Harry hissed.

Dobby pulled out a stack of letters. It wasn't that big, he saw most of them were dated before they figured out that someone had stopped his mail. "Dobby did it for the best. If Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him..."

Harry wasn't about to tell the elf how badly he'd bungled that. The lengths his friends went to trying to keep in touch were, in some ways, a great deal more heartwarming than the letters themselves. "Give those to me," he ordered.

Dobby shrunk back. "Harry Potter must promise not to go to Hogwarts."

"No," Harry said flatly. "I'd rather see my friends than read their letters.

Dobby sagged. "Then you leave Dobby no choice." Before Harry could stop him, he flung open the door and sprinted down the stairs.

Harry felt sick to his stomach. "Oh bugger me," he swore, and tore off after the elf.

That...didn't end well.

Armed with a letter of reprimand from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and half crazed by the loss of the biggest business deal of his life, Vernon repeated the grand family tradition of going completely insane. He installed seven different locks on Harry's door, including two deadbolts and a chain, while the windows were barred. He put a cat flap in the door to stick food through, but only after making sure there wasn't any possibility that Harry's shoulders could fit through the hole. By the next evening, Dudley's second bedroom was a prison cell.

Harry waited for the snores to fill the house and scrambled for the loose floorboards. It had been so hard making sure they didn't suspect...cellphone in hand, Harry started texting frantically. Vernon had promised never to send him back to Hogwarts. He couldn't let that happen. Someone needed to tell Dumbledore or McGonagall or Hagrid, bloody hell he'd take Snape's help at this point. But who to ask, Nanoha or Fate?

Harry briefly remembered that Nanoha was famous for nearly blowing up three Obliviators after they chased a muggle man who wasn't really a muggle. She was scary enough that he'd believe it, too. She'd probably blow the wall off the house or something and get them into even more trouble. He sent the message to Fate.

When the little icon flashed that the message had been sent, he collapsed on his bed. Soon, someone sensible and level headed would take the bars off his windows and let him go to Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon would probably rant and scream and throw things, but it would be worth it.

* * *

Fate's eye twitched as she read the text message.

_Help my family's gone nuts because they think I did magic but I DIDN'T and now they've locked me up and put bars up and aren't going to send me to Hogwarts_

"Mom?" she called sweetly. "Is the _Arthra_ still in orbit?"

* * *

Harry woke up when Petunia's hand shoved a bit of toast and a glass of water through the flap. He stared morosely at a breakfast that was even more pathetic than normal, but cheered a bit that at least he didn't have any chores while he was locked up. Hey, when Uncle Vernon calmed down, he'd want Harry doing chores again. They'd have to let him out and go to Hogwarts!

Feeling absurdly light hearted, Harry got out his phone. Three new messages.

Fate: _Don't worry. We'll take care of everything._

Nanoha: _Fate told me. Try and survive the night. We'll get you out of there._

Fate: _The team will be ready and we'll be there at eight. Make sure you're not near the door. Stay strong._

Harry's eyes flicked to the time. 7:59. Distantly he heard a familiar voice draw out the word "Divine."

Wait, now it read 8:00. "BUSTER!"

He didn't have time to think beyond that when the explosion shook the building.

"Secure the area!" an unfamiliar voice shouted. A woman, same accent as Fate.

"Yes ma'am," a chorus of gruff voices answered.

"What the bloody!" Vernon bellowed before his voice cut off with a gurgling noise.

"Ring bind." That was Raising Heart's voice. "Let's shoot it."

"Don't tempt me," Nanoha growled. Raising her voice she asked, "Where is Harry?"

"Potter?" Vernon sputtered. "What do you want with that freak?"

That was not the right answer. "I can be shot," Raising Heart offered again.

"Who are you people?" Petunia shrieked. "What are you doing here?"

"Vernon and Petunia Dursley," the woman announced formally. "You are under investigation for child endangerment, child abuse, willful negligence, and probably a few other things once our legal team has sorted this mess out. We are executing an emergency warrant for the extraction of the minor Harry James Potter to be placed in asylum."

"You're going to put the freak in the nuthouse?" Dudley asked. "You didn't need to blow up the door to do **that**. He's in my second bedroom."

"That would be the one with all the locks and the cat flap?" Fate snarled.

Harry realized with a start that Fate was just outside his door. He jumped up and stuck his head out the flap. "Fate!" he yelled. "I'm here."

Fate looked down. "Harry!" she yelled in relief. She turned towards the stairs. "Hostage located!" she yelled.

Harry wondered briefly why they weren't doing that telepathy thing when Fate winked at him. "A bit of a production for the muggles," she whispered. "Now Harry, get back would you?"

Harry suddenly realized Fate had Bardiche in hand. The black staff gleamed. "Load cartridge Haken form."

Harry launched himself to the back of the room. "Okay!" he called out.

Fate's scythe made short work of the door in a single diagonal slash. Half the door just fell to the floor and the other half swung loosely on the hinges. "Got your stuff?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "It's locked up in my cupboard," he said. At her expression he added, "The cupboard under the stairs."

"Right," Fate said darkly. "Is there anything in this room that belongs to you?"

"Hedwig," Harry said quickly. "And that phone Nanoha got me."

"You had a what?" Vernon bellowed from downstairs. "I'll flay you alive for this, boy!"

Harry shivered. "I really thought you were going to contact someone at Hogwarts," he said. "All this, they'll be impossible to live with after all this!"

"Then it's a good thing you won't be living with them," Fate said calmly.

Harry blinked. "What?"

Fate smiled a bit sadly. "For now we're taking you to Mom's place. Come on, we'll figure the rest out there."

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage and followed Fate down the stairs. The sight he saw became one he'd cherish forever (especially after finding out that the TSAB kept recordings of all official actions). Petunia's pristine house was a wreck, with a great big crater where the door used to be and a faint scent of ozone filled the air. The hallway beyond the door was lightly scorched and a glance at the kitchen told him that Nanoha had at the very least blown up the refrigerator. The house was filled with uniformed men and women carrying blue and gold staves that made him wonder if they were from Ravenclaw for the second or so it took for him to realize that had been a dumb thought.

The Dursleys themselves were no better off. Vernon was held in place with glowing pink rings while Nanoha held Raising Heart threateningly at his face, which had gone red with blood and rage. Petunia was bone-white and rigid, mouth hanging open and looking like she had fainted but forgotten to fall down. Dudley was just standing off to the side, blinking stupidly and looking like he wanted to ask about breakfast.

The tall, green-haired woman he assumed was in charge smiled at him. "You must be Harry," she said kindly. "I'm Admiral Lindy Harlaown, Fate's mom." Vernon made an ugly sound when Lindy called herself an admiral, but all that earned was Raising Heart getting a centimeter closer to his face. Lindy's tone turned professional with shocking suddenness. "Now, get your things together if you please. We can't stay here long."

Harry had no doubt as to that. The neighbors would be calling for police any moment. He spotted Arf near the cupboard trying to get it open – Nanoha's buster had melted the lock and hinges. In the end Arf simply ripped the door away, filling Harry with a deep satisfaction that his old prison couldn't hold anything anymore. They quickly emptied the cupboard of everything, still packed up from when he first arrived. Despite the convenience, it only made Nanoha put her device closer to Vernon. If he wasn't careful he'd lose an eye to one of the bident's tongs.

"Admiral," Arf said softly. "Look at this."

Lindy walked over and inhaled sharply at the old bed in the cupboard. She looked at the door and saw how the lock was set, and saw on the inside an old faded crayon scrawl. "Harry's Room."

Lindy straightened and gave Vernon Dursley as dark a look as she had offered Prescia Testarossa. "It is with great sadness that I must inform you that you are only the _second_ worst excuse for a guardian I have ever known," she said softly. "Harry, is that everything?"

Harry knew that none of the Dursleys could have conceived of opening his trunk of freakishness and only checked his wand and broomstick. He pocketed the former. "Yes ma'am," he said. "I mean, yes, Admiral. Aye?"

Lindy smiled. "Ma'am was fine," she said. She raised her voice and announced, "Hostage secure. Everyone to designated departure coordinates. Miss Takamachi, you may release him."

Nanoha dropped her staff and the rings holding Vernon vanished. The man collapsed to the ground and rolled a bit.

Everyone clustered into three groups. Harry found himself surrounded by Lindy, Arf, Fate, and Nanoha. White magic circles formed under all three groups.

Vernon got to his feet with a roar and lunged for Harry just as the world vanished in a rainbow of light.

Harry looked around, stunned, at the strange metal room he was suddenly in. Lindy walked off issuing orders that sounded really important while most of the soldiers just chuckled and chatted about the "easy mission" and "political shit storm" coming their way.

Nanoha and Fate stayed beside Harry, switching their devices to standby. "Welcome aboard the _Arthra_, Harry," Nanoha said.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, poking away at three instruments on his desk that were giving the most bizarre readings.

THIS one measured the blood wards erected by Lily Potter in her dying moments. It was spinning along as it had most of its existence, only slowing over the year Harry spent at Hogwarts and shrieking only once, the day with the Stone.

THIS one was tied to a ward Dumbledore created at Privet Drive that measured active magical energy. It was shrieking like a banshee, which would only be possible if two wizards were dueling at a level Dumbledore had only reached in his fights with the various Dark Lords of his life or if an entire platoon of hitwizards and aurors had been deployed. Or Death Eaters or some other group, but the blood wards were still working.

And THIS one was an ancient device that headmasters had used for centuries, a relay point in the Trace used to monitor underage magic. It was utterly silent, save for one muggleborn casting a Lumos spell. He'd be getting a warning shortly. Not a problem worth thinking on at the moment.

So, what this meant was that someone, who was not allied with or working for Voldemort, had arrived at Privet Drive and was throwing around enough magic to explode the house but without using anything that the Trace recognized as a spell.

And that just didn't make sense.

Drawing himself up, Albus decided a quick visit was in order. He walked over to his fireplace and threw a bit of powder at it. "Arabella Figg!" he called and the flames turned green.

In Little Whinging, Dumbledore walked out of a fireplace only to be beaten over the head by an irate squib. "You took your sweet time!" Figg shrieked. "Explosions and soldiers apparating all over the place and talk of hostages and the muggles are calling the police for sure!"

Dumbledore dearly wanted to get a clearer explanation but the urgency in the woman's voice and what little he understood was enough that he knew he had to act immediately. He rushed from the house, shouting to Figg to owl the aurors immediately. They'd need to call in obliviators to fix this mess already, so Dumbledore took no care in hiding his wand of his magic. He arrived just in time to see Harry vanish in a rainbow of colors, leaving only a familiar magical circle.

Dumbledore exhaled. The Time-Space Administration Bureau had taken the Boy Who Lived. The _Daily Prophet_ was going to explode. He could only hope that Trent Lacrosse or Nanoha Takamachi or whoever was behind this could give them answers.

For now, Vernon Dursley was yelling obscenities at him and there were sirens in the distance. This was going to be...unpleasant.


	2. The Boy Who Sought Asylum

Chapter 2: The Boy Who Sought Asylum

Harry gawked at the starscape out the window. He had, obviously, never been in space before and was still having some trouble getting his head around it. The fact that this was actually a warship didn't help him at all.

The _Arthra_ didn't have nearly as powerful teleporters as the _Kaithya_ and had opted for a high terrestrial orbit for the duration of her time at Earth. Technically under the command of young Lieutenant Amy Limietta while Admiral Lindy was on leave, the _Arthra_ based herself on non-administrated 97 and took over jurisdiction for the surrounding dimensional space. Such assignments were common in the TSAB Navy's disaster relief divisions – especially around worlds that were under the process of being reevaluated.

Harry neither knew of or cared for the political details of the _Arthra_'s deployment. An older boy named Chrono (who was both Fate's older brother and a kind of police officer!) gave him a tour of the vessel while the adults talked about whatever it is adults talk about. Nanoha and Fate went with them, and Harry knew the younger girls were enjoying his reactions. He couldn't really bring himself to care. Arf had disappeared with his luggage, saying he was getting his own cabin until they figured out something permanent.

He'd gone from a cupboard to a spare bedroom to a cabin on a **spaceship**. He almost wished Dudley was here to see it.

"Can I ask something?" he asked suddenly.

Chrono nodded. "Of course." They were in the _Arthra_'s engine room. So far the tour was just killing time and getting Harry settled into this new reality, or more accurately waiting to see when stress and information overload would force him to sit down. The boy hadn't asked for any technical details and Chrono certainly hadn't volunteered any, but even so he had a dazed, gawking expression that didn't bode well for his ability to process how dramatically his life had changed, again.

"Why weren't you at the Dursleys'?" Harry asked.

Chrono blinked in surprise. He had been thinking about that foolish assault all this time? Maybe he was dealing better than Chrono gave him credit for. "That attack was the brainchild of the geniuses behind you," he said somewhat snidely. Harry turned and saw Fate and Nanoha grinning sheepishly. Chrono continued, "I wanted a quick extraction using the ship's teleporter. There was no need to make a scene or do that much collateral damage."

"They deserved it," Fate said. Harry felt a shiver go down his back at her tone. It was like ice.

Chrono frowned. "That's not your call to make, Fate."

Fate scowled at her brother. He was _right_, dammit, and she knew it. She just didn't care. She was right, too.

Harry frowned. "I don't want anyone to get into trouble because of me," he objected.

Nanoha managed to smile at that. "Harry, do you know how long Fate has been planning this morning?"

Harry thought back. When had he sent that text? "Eight hours?"

"All year," Fate said. Harry's jaw dropped. "Ever since we first met you in Diagon Alley. You were clearly being mistreated. Arf and I would have gotten you out of that house then, if we could."

The ship spun around Harry as he thought that through. Was the ship caught in a storm or something? "What...why couldn't you?"

Fate fished out her phone and showed Harry his last text. _Help!_ "You had to ask," she said simply.

The _Arthra_'s deck jumped up and smacked Harry in the face. All he knew was blackness.

Nanoha lunged to grab Harry as he fainted. The quiet hum of magical machinery was the only noise in the room for several seconds.

Chrono rubbed the back of his head. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

* * *

Dumbledore appeared outside Stockholm with a crack. Apparating over international distances was always hard, which naturally made it noisier, but this was too important to hunt down an international floo. Time was of the essence!

The TSAB Embassy was an unusual building by wizarding standards simply because of how muggle it looked on the outside. Most disguised buildings were dilapidated wrecks that attracted the attention of no one. The TSAB building was pristine and obviously inhabited. It was three stories tall, modern construction with large windows that were polarized to be highly reflective. The building was surrounded by a seven foot high wall with a single gate, which had a guard house with a small collection of gold plaques naming it the TSABE Facility with several dire warnings for trespassers.

The Embassy had been completed only a month ago, at which point Trent Lacrosse revealed he had been named Ambassador and relieved of command of the _Kaithya_. Dumbledore was worried for the man he considered a friend, but Lacrosse waved him off from any protest. "I'm a diplomat, Albus," he had said. "They gave me a ship because I needed one. I don't need her anymore, and her crew can certainly be put to better service than idling around here. Don't think on it again."

Dumbledore approached the guardhouse. "Hello," he called politely.

The guard looked him over. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Albus Dumbledore," he introduced himself. "I'm here to see about an incident a few minutes ago in Surrey." At the man's blank expression he added, "That's in England."

"Ah, right, Mr. Lacrosse was expecting you." The guard did something under his desk and the gate slid open. "Go on in."

Dumbledore nodded and walked through the gate. The embassy courtyard was almost muggle, he noted, but patrolled by three mages. Their uniforms were muggle enough, but the magitech staves they carried were...well they were TSAB. He noted a fourth guard at the door into the embassy carrying a staff with similar ornateness. Dumbledore had seen enough Bureau mages to suspect that this, too, was a mass produced "device" like the staves used by the others, rather than a unique piece like Raising Heart or Bardiche. Perhaps that guard had special training for close combat? A question to ponder later; apparently having been cued by the gate guard, the spear man opened the door as Dumbledore approached. They exchanged polite nods.

Dumbledore entered the embassy and found himself quietly impressed. He'd never been in the building since its completion and had only visited the location once, when the TSAB had revealed that there wouldn't be a single muggle-repelling ward on the site. Dumbledore knew that the Swedish wizards had picked up strong magic from the place on a number of scrying tools, yet he saw absolutely no evidence of it. The embassy's atrium was as muggle as any room he had been in. There were comfortable chairs and stacks of magazines and a receptionist who did something behind her desk that opened a door with a simple mechanical arm.

Ambassador Lacrosse was hurrying down the hallway beyond the door. "Albus!" he called. "You don't miss a trick."

"I flatter myself well informed," Dumbledore said seriously. "I saw the magic circles at Privet Drive and came here hoping you might shed some light on the situation."

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Lacrosse growled. "Operation Heroic Rescue was given a mandate last night but it looks like a couple hotheads abused operational discretion to create that farce of an extraction."

Dumbledore blinked. "Maybe you should start from the beginning?" he suggested.

"My office," Lacrosse said. He led the older man up to the third floor.

The deeper into the building they got, the more the TSAB's magitech was evident. Holographic computers were in use all over the second floor, and Dumbledore recognized teleporter alcoves from his tour of the _Kaithya_. Even so, they were simply furnishings on top of a muggle structure. "You blend in to muggle society well," he complimented.

Lacrosse shrugged. "In some ways we're closer to muggles with magic than wizards with technology. It helps us keep a low profile without the intent based wards you've developed."

Dumbledore nodded and soon they were in Lacrosse's office. Dumbledore chose a seat for himself. "Now, what has happened to Harry Potter? Is he safe?"

"Completely," Lacrosse said.

"Can I see him?" Dumbledore asked.

Lacrosse looked pained. "Regulation is for the child to have at least a few hours to settle after an extraction. If he doesn't ask for you, I can't take you to him for at least six hours."

"That's...unfortunate. Can you tell me where he is?"

Lacrosse gestured and an image appeared over his desk, the _Arthra_ in high orbit. "TSAB dimensional cruiser _Arthra_, flagship of Admiral Lindy Harlaown. Her marine detachment, two part time mages, and one familiar formed the assault party."

Dumbledore felt a mild headache. "Miss Takamachi, Miss Fate Harlaown, and Arf."

"Right," Lacrosse agreed. "Those would be the hotheads in question."

"Miss Harlaown did not strike me as particularly volatile," Dumbledore mused.

"She reacts violently to child abuse."

"Abuse?" Dumbledore said darkly. "Trent, what is going on?"

"We have a letter of action for you," Lacrosse said, producing an ornate envelope. "This was issued when the mandate was given. Bureau laws allow for action on foreign soil in very few circumstances, one of which is a direct request for aide by an individual incapable of contacting his local authority."

"Surely Harry could not fall into such a category, whatever had happened," Dumbledore said.

"It's all in the letter but I'll cut past the flowery talk. Harry's mail was being stopped, apparently by a house elf named Dobby. His own owl was caged. He himself was barred and locked in his room and denied access to his wand. He was also denied food and there's evidence of a full laundry list of emotional abuse and deprivation preceding his imprisonment. All he had was his cellphone."

Dumbledore paled at the description. "I knew the Dursleys were hardly a loving family, but to lock a child away...that goes beyond my imagination."

"You knew this abuse was ongoing?" Lacrosse asked. "And you didn't remove Harry yourself?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry's situation is incredibly complicated, much to his detriment. I believe the Chinese would call his life 'interesting.' I put safeguards in place that would alert myself and others if Harry was being beaten or imperiled. Nothing registered beyond a firm spanking."

Lacrosse could think of a dozen things to ask about that statement alone, but he managed to pick one. "Is it normal for a child to have such surveillance?"

"Harry is not normal," Dumbledore said by way of answering. "How much do you know of Voldemort and his Death Eaters?"

"Barely more than the name," Lacrosse confessed. "Your history texts are..."

"Hysterical?" Dumbledore suggested. "Sensational? Imprecise?"

"Yes."

"A product of the times," Dumbledore said. "As is the reluctance to say his name."

"That really didn't seem to make a lot of sense either," Lacrosse agreed.

"It did, at the time. Voldemort enjoyed nothing more than the fear of others. He carved his name into the minds of everyone and then slaughtered everyone who was known to speak it. Reporters and ministry officials would turn up dead hours after publicizing the name."

Lacrosse grimaced. "Sounds like a certified psychopath."

"Sadly. When Voldemort was defeated, Harry became a legendary figure overnight."

"But he couldn't have done it," Lacrosse objected. "He was a baby."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. Unfortunately, most scholars were unable to study the event for fear of retribution from the Death Eaters. By the time that threat seemed gone, the Boy Who Lived was accepted fact in all but the most scholarly circles."

"Circles in which you reside," Lacrosse said knowingly. "This somehow relates to Harry's upbringing. You wanted him out of the limelight?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You think I placed the boy?"

"Your wards, your narrative, your position at Hogwarts, you had a say in it, at least."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed I did. At first it was to be temporary, his only blood family could care for Harry while James's and Lily's wills were read. But while Harry's parents had left him guardians, but they were all dead or unable to care for the boy." He saw Lacrosse's skeptical expression and sighed. "One was driven mad and remains hospitalized with no hope of recovery. One is incarcerated as a traitor, a Death Eater spy. One left the country and maintained no permanent residence, I believe a large amount of alcohol was involved." Remus was also unable to provide the full time care a toddler needed due to his curse, one of the sad realities of his condition. "As such, the Dursleys had legal custody as his blood relatives."

"You could have convinced them to give the boy up," Lacrosse said. "From what I've read, I doubt it would have taken fifteen minutes."

"True," Dumbledore agreed, "but that would be simple and as I said, Harry is far too complicated. He was being hunted by Death Eaters almost from the day he ended up on their doorstep."

Lacrosse's eyes narrowed. "The boy is alive. Your wards?"

"Not mine," Dumbledore said. "Lily Potter's. Old magic, blood magic. The details I don't have, but I am familiar with the magic. Lily must have had the choice to run or die, and she died for her child. The ward she constructed with that sacrifice saved Harry that night and remains the strongest spell I have ever witnessed."

Lacrosse took a deep breath. "How do the Dursleys fit into that?"

"Petunia Dursley is Lily Potter's sister," Dumbledore explained. "The blood wards only had power as long as Harry lived in the house of a blood relative of Lily. The Dursleys' home was the safest place for Harry."

"Clearly they didn't stop the Dursleys from abusing the boy," Lacrosse snapped.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. They did not. But no less than five Death Eaters were captured trying to find out where the Boy Who Lived could be found in just that first month. Each one was tearing through adoption records and court cases with the names and addresses in plain sight, yet none of them could read or retain the knowledge. Over the years I have studied the wards, I have discovered many layers of protection. Each was, simple, effective, and powerful, yet limited to Voldemort and any who acted in his interests."

Lacrosse ran a hand over his face. "So the Dursley house was a refuge from...everything?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Almost storybook," he agreed. "The fame and sycophancy, the hatred and death threats, the wonder and the horror. It was as close to a normal childhood as I could have hoped." He scowled. "And for that, I confess I may never be able to forgive, either Voldemort or myself."

"That...answers a great number of things," Lacrosse admitted. "What are your intentions now?"

Dumbledore's answer was instant. "I must see to Harry's well being," he said. He hesitated and sorted out his other objectives.

Any man who leads a large bureaucracy has known the trouble of conflicting objectives or needs. Albus Dumbledore led four such organizations. Hogwarts, fortunately, had no stake in the matter beyond a teacher's concern for a student. The Wizengamot was outraged over a foreign power acting on British soil and the abduction of a citizen, not to mention yet more flaunting the limits on Underage Sorcery. The International Confederation was likewise incensed by yet another violation of the Statute of Secrecy. The Order of the Phoenix (currently inactive but Dumbledore doubted that would last much longer) was concerned for the safety of the Boy Who Lived. The International Confederation wanted the TSAB sufficiently appeased that friendly relations could ensue. The Wizengamot could care less. The Order wanted the TSAB as allies in the coming war.

When he had leisure, Dumbledore surrounded himself with advisers and deputies from each group. McGonagall was an excellent advocate for Hogwarts. Snape served for the Order's more militant aims. Fudge was gifted at cutting to the needs of the Ministry. The representatives from France and the United States offered a solid view on the international stage. He could listen to these people when his duties overlapped and serve as a mediator to find a solution. When he had to provide a unified front, or simply had no time for decision by committee, he had to trust in his own wisdom and hope that the faith others put in him was not unfounded.

This was such a moment. "I also will need to issue a formal complaint on behalf of the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards in regards to the public display of magic and intrusion on British sovereignty," he said carefully.

Lacrosse nodded. "That is expected. You should know that we are prepared to discuss reparation and issue a formal apology."

Dumbledore blinked in genuine surprise. "That will calm many voices when this incident becomes public," he said.

Lacrosse grinned. "We try to be the good guys, Albus. Sometimes that means doing bad things for the greater good, but we own up to it."

Dumbledore had nothing to say to that. "That will...help," he said. "Six hours, you said?"

Lacrosse nodded. "We will contact you immediately if there are any changes. I will get my staff working on that apology."

"And I will break the news of this incident as gently as possible."

"Are you expecting as big an explosion as I am, Albus?"

"Bigger."

* * *

Harry tried to open his eyes and winced at the light from the ceiling. Someone must have set the torches to full burn. Maybe Dean was practicing his incendio again.

Wait. This was holiday. He was at the Dursleys. Man, Aunt Petunia was going to wear him to the bone fixing the walls Nanoha burned.

Nanoha. Attacked the Dursleys. And took him out of there.

…

Oh yeah. He was in space, too.

Harry blinked. He was in space?

Yes, that had definitely been space outside the window. Huh.

He should probably start freaking out now.

"Gwah!" Harry yelped, sitting upright. He was in a bed. Not as comfortable as his four-poster in Hogwarts. Way better than the Dursleys gave him. Nightstand. He fumbled and found his glasses. Ah, he was in a small bedroom. Smooth walls. Modern desk. Fate. Buttons next to a sliding metal door. Electric ceiling light.

Wait. Fate?

Yes. Fate.

"Gwah!" Harry repeated, trying to jump behind the bed. There was a **GIRL** in his **bedroom**. Okay, so it wasn't _his_ bedroom but it was a room, it had a bed, he was in it, and there was a girl looking at him. The bed was also flush against the wall and now he had a headache. He also registered that he was fully clothed. That was good.

Fate frowned as Harry launched himself into a wall. Was he having a fit? "Harry?" she asked.

"I'm okay!" Harry yelped into the wall.

"Are you sure?" Fate asked.

"Yes!" Harry said. He rolled over and sat up again. "I was just, uh, startled."

"You've had a lot of surprises this morning," Fate agreed. "Brunch?"

"That sounds good," Harry agreed.

Harry gawked at the ship as they walked to the mess. "I...kinda wasn't paying attention during the tour," he confessed.

"We noticed," Fate said. "Harry, relax. All we were doing was trying to get you past the initial shock. You're hardly the first person to collapse after a rescue."

Harry thought that over. "I'm not?"

Fate shook her head. "You're recovering a lot faster than I did."

Harry needed a few seconds to process that. "Uh..."

Fate smiled sadly. "I'll tell you mine and you tell me yours?"

Some frightened voice screamed in Harry's skull. "I don't really have anything to say," Harry said.

"Neither did I, at first."

Harry was silent through the meal and after, while Fate led him to her mother's cabin.

"Harry," Lindy greeted warmly. "Feeling better?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry said automatically. He looked around the room. It was fairly white which made it feel much larger than it really was. The walls were lined with tiny trees and there was a wooden tube and water spout contraption in the corner that went doink. Lindy was seated casually on a cushion on the floor in what looked like the world's most painful way to sit. Fate sat in the same way. Harry tried to mimic her and ended up falling on his butt. He blushed, crossed his legs, and hoped he didn't look too foolish.

Lindy didn't comment. "Harry, I want you to understand that you are free to make your own choices. We can help you with a number of options, but the choice of what happens is entirely yours."

"Um, okay," Harry said. He wasn't used to making decisions, but it sounded like this was going to be some kind of a test. He could do tests.

"Okay then. Harry, right now you're a ward of the Time Space Administration Bureau. If you don't want to, you will never have to see the Dursleys again. Ever."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But, but what about next summer? Where will I live when Hogwarts lets out? Where will I live before term starts?"

"That is where you have options," Lindy explained. "Including the option to not go to Hogwarts. If you wanted, we could take you to our world, MidChilda, and enroll you in a magic school there."

Harry wondered if he was going to faint again but shook his head rapidly. "No, I want to go to Hogwarts! I want to be with Ron and Hermione and Fate and Nanoha and Dean and Hagrid and Neville and...could you send Malfoy to Mars? That would be kind of wicked."

Lindy held back laughter but mentally scratched out every option that permanently removed Harry from Earth. Not that she was expecting any different. "I am afraid we have to leave young Malfoy exactly where he is," Lindy said softly. "Now, Harry, until Hogwarts starts you are more than welcome to your cabin on this ship, but this vessel is not a home." She saw Harry's face fall. "As I said, where you end up will be your choice, but you need to understand that you need to _make_ a choice. Not now!" she cut off the obvious protest. "You have until your next summer holiday to make that decision."

"And if I don't, I go back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked.

Lindy shook her head. "The worst we would do is leave you with an orphanage," she said. "You will _not_ be returned to the Dursleys unless you _want_ to."

Harry shuddered slightly. He'd take the Dursleys over an orphanage. Uncle Vernon threatened him with one so often it _had_ to be worse than anything the Dursleys could do to him.

Lindy watched Harry's reactions carefully. "One option I can present you immediately is a commission with the TSAB as a part time mage, like Fate and Nanoha. You would get a room with one of our facilities on Earth as part of your employment benefits, and your superior would take the role of your legal guardian," she explained.

"That's what happened to me," Fate put in. "At least, before my superior officer formally adopted me."

Harry blinked at that. "I'd like that a lot better than an orphanage," he said. "Or the Dursleys."

Also as expected, Lindy thought with satisfaction. She still had that pegged as a the worst case scenario. Far more likely, given the boy's friendships and cultural needs, was fostering with the Weasleys. If the boy had overestimated his inheritance, the TSAB had a child support fund for cases like this. But now was not the time to explore every possibility. Harry was relaxing, smiling, and getting used to the idea that he'd never be in the Dursleys' care again. That was enough, for now.

She'd remember eating those words an hour later when a late morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ was owled to the embassy and relayed to the _Arthra_.

* * *

**BOY WHO LIVED ABDUCTED BY ALIEN WIZARDS**

_by Rita Skeeter_

In a shocking turn of events, the Ministry of Magic announced today that Harry James Potter, famed Boy Who Lived, was abducted today by a large force of wizards and witches.

At eight o'clock this morning the residence of Harry Potter and his muggle relatives was viciously attacked. The assailants breached a number of doors that were heavily warded in a variety of muggle fashions. The attackers held the muggles under a Body Bind curse and threatened to torture the location of Harry Potter from them. Reports indicate that Harry Potter nobly revealed his own presence instead of allowing his relatives to come to further harm. The assailants then took "the hostage" as they called Harry Potter and apparated to parts unknown.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement dispatched aurors to investigate as well as Obliviators to deal with neighboring muggle witnesses. Also on scene was Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore did not make any comments to the press, however muggle witness Petunia Dursley had this to say:

"They made threats against me and my little boy! Then...and he said he recognized that magic circle as some kind of TSAB freakishness. ...all freaks and ruffians who do nothing but harass and attack good people like us!"

The TSAB or Time Space Administration Bureau made contact with the International Confederation of Wizards a year ago, through their Japanese agent Nanoha Takamachi. Images of Takamachi were presented to the Dursleys and they confirmed she was the one who bound Vernon Dursley and threatened his life. The TSAB claims to be from a different world and has shown no restraint in enforcing their will over muggles and now wizarding children.

We can only hope that the aurors prove equal to these dark wizards from the skies.

_For more on the defeat of You Know Who, see **Page 2**_

_For more on Lily Potter's muggle family, see **Page 4**_

_For more on Albus Dumbledore and his connections to Harry Potter, see **Page 5**_

_For more on Nanoha Takamachi, see **Page 7**_

* * *

Revised: Typos


	3. Politics

Chapter 3: Politics

Nanoha choked. "Abducted?" she gasped.

Fate stared. "Ruffians?"

Harry shrugged. "That's Aunt Petunia, all right." Nanoha gawked at Harry. "What?" he asked, feeling a bit defensive. "That's actually almost polite, for her."

Lindy coughed lightly. "If we can get past the bruised egos for a moment?" she asked.

"Sorry, Mom," Fate sulked. "This is going to cause problems, isn't it?"

"Probably," Lindy said grimly.

"You could send me back," Harry offered.

Lindy fixed Harry with a glare. "Harry Potter, whatever _problems_ this causes for us will be handled by _us_, not _you_. Everyone on this ship took an oath to stand between civilians and danger whenever necessary. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah, but if it's going to get you all in trouble."

"Harry, even if you went back, it wouldn't fix anything. It would just make everyone more miserable," Lindy said more gently. "But you really want to help, don't you?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yes ma'am. I can't just sit back and do nothing."

Lindy studied Harry's face. The last time she heard such selflessness had been the Presea Testarossa Incident. Her eyes drifted to Nanoha, who was scowling at the _Prophet_. It would have been cute if Lindy didn't know it promised a great deal of...friendship...towards this 'Rita Skeeter.' She glanced back at Harry. "I will contact Ambassador Lacrosse."

* * *

Lacrosse rubbed his forehead and glared at the children on the other side of his desk. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you two are in? Not you, Harry."

Fate and Nanoha grinned sheepishly. "We couldn't let Harry stay there," Nanoha objected.

"No, but you should have gone with Enforcer Harlaown's plan. Not Part-Timer Harlaown's."

Fate blinked but showed no expression. "Chrono's plan didn't punish the Dursleys enough."

"So you turned a civilian rescue into a military extraction out of _spite_?" Lacrosse hissed.

Fate's mask began to crack. "Yes sir," she said evenly.

Lacrosse kept up his glare. He had kids of his own. Fate's lip was beginning to twitch again. Just a few more seconds.

Fate hung her head. "I screwed up my priorities, didn't I?"

"Damn right you did," Lacrosse agreed coldly. "I've sent word to the main office requesting a formal reprimand. You can expect your pay to be docked, too."

Fate winced. There went that new smart phone

Lacrosse sighed heavily. "What we have here is a classic media frenzy. By this afternoon two or three other papers will have picked up the story and it'll be on the mainland. By tomorrow it will be global. We can ride it out or get out in front of it."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well riding it out means we go dark. We talk with Dumbledore and maybe Minister Fudge to make sure the word goes through the Ministry that you're safe and not being held against your will. The story will go away on its own probably by the time you head back to Hogwarts, at which point it will spark up again. By then we'll be able to control it, though."

"And getting in front of it?" Harry asked.

"We hold a press conference today. We answer questions today. We get our side of the story out today. This Skeeter woman gets drowned out by actual facts."

"That sounds like the better option."

"The problem is that you'd need to be a part of that, Harry. It means talking to the press, it means talking a bit about the Dursleys. No one should ask that of you."

Harry looked at Nanoha and Fate for a moment. "Would it mean less trouble for Nanoha and Fate?"

Lacrosse blinked. "Yes, possibly. But,"

"Then let's do it," Harry said firmly. And he would not be dissuaded.

* * *

In the end, a press conference in the Wizarding World proved to be a very different thing than it was in the muggle. First, only three reporters were brought in, each from a newspaper, and only one photographer. Second, the reporters attended the actual meeting rather than reporting on it after the fact. They were also required to only ask questions at the end.

Lacrosse shared his conference room with four people. Albus Dumbledore, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, ICW Representative of Magical Japan Tsukimura Mai, and Lindy Harlaown.

Fudge was all bluster. "Harry Potter must be returned to his family at once," he demanded.

"Minister, I can assure you that Harry will never be returned to the Dursleys," Lindy said coldly.

Fudge's face went red and he opened his mouth to bellow, but Lacrosse was faster. "Please! Admiral, Minister, it is obvious you both want what is best for the boy. Let's examine the facts as they happened."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. He glanced at Fudge, who looked torn between bellowing anyway and waiting to see if they might say anything important. "I believe that means I get to go first. I placed Harry Potter with his maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, when he was a little over a year old. No one with a legal claim to guardianship ever came forward since. Given the boy's prominence in the fall of Voldemort," here he took a breath while Fudge, Tsukimura, and the reporters recovered, "I also added a layer of wards and later arranged for loose surveillance."

"Surveillance?" Fudge asked. "There are no wizards living in that part of Surrey."

"I recruited a squib. She was more adept at blending in than most witches."

Fudge blinked and processed that. Lindy leaned closer to redirect attention. "Did you hear anything about how Harry was treated over the past ten years?"

"Poorly," Dumbledore said simply. "The Dursleys were neglectful and harsh in the best of times."

"And in the worst of times?" Tsukimura asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "In the worst of times Harry would suffer mistreatment."

Lacrosse produced several folders and distributed them. "These document what was found in the Dursley home in regards to Harry Potter," he said calmly. "These details are not to be shared with the general public. Dumbledore, can you attest to their accuracy?"

A few moments passed while Dumbledore and the other assembled reviewed the material. The photographer got a few choice pictures of Fudge turning pale and Tsukimura just looking sick. "This is accurate," Dumbledore said at length.

"By the laws of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, this constitutes evidence of abuse sufficient to separate a child from his legal guardians," Lacrosse said.

"That does not give you the right to unilateral action," Fudge snapped. "Besides, those laws..."

"Harry Potter is a British citizen," Lacrosse pointed out. "He further made a direct call for help to an agent of the TSAB. You will find that request on the last page of the folder."

Fudge ripped his folder open again and scrabbled for the last page. "They were going to deny him his magical heritage?" he gaped.

Lindy closed her eyes. "From what he has told me," she said softly, "they had tried to 'stamp it out of him.'"

"That is also what Vernon Dursley said when Rubeus Hagrid delivered Harry's Hogwarts letter last year," Dumbledore added.

Fudge closed the folder, looking rattled.

"I think we can lay to rest the unsuitability of the Dursleys as parents," Lacrosse suggested. No one disagreed.

"What about their own child?" Fudge asked a moment later. "There was another boy at the scene."

Lindy smiled sadly. "They spoil him rotten," she said, "often at Harry's expense. He's also attending a boarding school which should hopefully break him of bad habits."

Lacrosse looked to Fudge. "Would the Ministry of Magic object to the muggle government taking legal action against the Dursleys for their crimes against Harry Potter?"

Fudge shook his head. "I will make arrangements to speak with the muggle Minister," he said heavily. "Then we can be well shut of this terrible affair."

"If I may," Tsukimura said, "there is the additional issue of unilateral action taken within the borders of a sovereign state. The TSAB overstepped its bounds."

Lacrosse nodded. "While Admiral Harlaown and her crew did act in the best interest of the child, the TSAB recognizes that this incident could have been better handled by informing the Ministry of Magic and offering assistance only. In hopes of continued friendship we offer reparations in the form of five hundred galleons and a formal apology, which I will personally deliver in a public venue of your choice."

Fudge blinked. "Yes, well, um, that's quite acceptable." He smiled, suddenly all friendly. "You have an excellent grasp of politics, Lacrosse. It will be a pleasure to work with you."

Lacrosse eyed Fudge briefly. The man was either used to being bribed or relieved that he could spin this as a triumph for his government over silly-but-polite foreigners.

"Excellent," Dumbledore clapped. "Then all we have to deal with is the placement of Mr. Potter."

"Which does not need to be observed by the press," Lindy said.

"Mm. True," Dumbledore agreed. "Lady and gentlemen," he addressed the reporters, "do you have any questions?" They burst into questions, screaming over each other. It was a wonder they had time to breathe.

Lacrosse sighed. For only three voices, they certainly sounded like a crowd of twenty. He pasted a grin on his face and picked a question at random.

* * *

Harry hugged his knees close to his chest. A few hours ago he was taken from the Dursleys. He was on a space ship. He'd been offered a home on another planet. He'd agreed to talk to the woman that wrote those horrible things about Nanoha and Fate.

And for all that, he'd only just finished lunch!

Now he was waiting. Waiting waiting waiting waiting. Waiting for Dumbledore and that reporter woman. This was going to be huge.

The door chimed and he looked up expectantly. The door didn't open and after a few seconds it chimed again. "Uh, come in?" Harry tried.

Lindy opened the door and peeked her head in. "Ready?"

Harry hopped off the bed. "Yeah," he said.

This meeting was on the _Arthra_ in the captain's cabin, surrounded by her little trees and thing that goes doink. Lindy had redecorated slightly with a table and chairs and a very British tea service. The table was long and slightly rounded, with Dumbledore and a woman that had to be Skeeter (who else would have parchment and quill floating next to her like that?) already seated.

Dumbledore smiled as Harry entered. He didn't have reason not to trust Lacrosse or Nanoha or the Harlaowns, but it was always a comfort to see something for himself. There Harry was, nervous but not scared, healthy and unbruised, wearing rags from someone far larger than him. Exactly as the TSAB reports implied. Skeeter's quill flew over her parchment, no doubt recording a particularly spectacular description of the boy's pathetic attire.

When Harry sat down, Dumbledore found himself silently complimenting their host. Harry was seated between Lindy and Fate Harlaown, with Lacrosse seated between Lindy and himself. The distances between them were more subtle, but it was no coincidence that Harry was as far from Skeeter as possible. Harry's benefactors had made a simple delineation between those Harry trusted, namely themselves, and those he did not, which was Skeeter and himself.

Well, his own inclusion in the latter group would hopefully change shortly. "Harry," he said warmly. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded without hesitation. "I'm fine," he said by complete reflex. "I mean, this has all been really weird, but Admiral Lindy told me I'd never have to go back to the Dursleys."

Dumbledore suppressed a wince that the boy's biggest comfort factor was such a promise. "Could you tell me what happened yesterday and today?" he asked.

Harry glanced at Lindy and went over everything, starting with the Dursleys' dinner with the Masons and the weird house elf. He'd been told not to give Dobby's name when Skeeter was in the room, but all the reporter asked was what family the elf belonged to, which Harry didn't know anyway. When he got to the cat flap which food was passed through, Skeeter actually squealed. Harry stumbled over the rest of the story, all the while realizing that his most shameful secrets were about to become public. Yeah, he'd volunteered for it, but he hated the attention.

Dumbledore gave Harry a critical look as the story finished and turned to Skeeter. "I don't think we need to trouble Mr. Potter's time any more," he said firmly. No child should need to life through such things, much less to recount them so soon. And to do so in front of a reporter that made no secret of her glee in sensationalizing the tragedy...Dumbledore silently marveled at the boy's resolve.

Skeeter obviously didn't share his feelings. "Come now, Dumbledore," she purred, "we haven't even heard a thing about young Harry's plan for his future, or his relatives, or whoever his guardian may end up being."

"I'm just looking forward to another year at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Oh?" Skeeter pounced. She immediately ignored the boy in favor of Lindy. "You will be allowing Harry to return to Hogwarts after all?"

"Of course," Lindy said stiffly. "Harry has every right to decide that much for himself."

"Only that much?"

Lindy frowned. "Harry's opinions and choices will be respected as much as possible, but he is a child. It would be unconscionable to ask him to make decisions most adults would find daunting. We look forward to working with the Ministry and Hogwarts to determine the best course of action."

"Which will be a closed proceeding," Dumbledore added firmly. "And one that we had best begin as quickly as possible."

Skeeter refused to take the hint. Instead she zeroed in on Fate. "And you, young miss? Will you be starting at Hogwarts soon?"

"I am in Harry's year," Fate said calmly. "Ravenclaw."

"Really? And the other young girl, Takamashi?"

"Takamachi," Fate corrected. "Also our year, also Ravenclaw."

"Inter-house unity between the eagles and lions," Skeeter gushed. "Touching."

It took a few more pointless questions better suited to _Witch Weekly_ than the _Daily Prophet_ before Skeeter was escorted from the conference room and teleported to the surface. Lindy shook her head after the reporter left. "That was quite an unpleasant woman," she said.

"I assume that whatever article she writes will gloss over her first article and talk about the unusual ties between second year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students," Dumbledore said tiredly.

"Is it really that odd to have friends in other Houses?" Harry asked.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "But it serves her purpose to pretend that it is."

Harry seemed to accept that simple answer. "So, um, what happens now?" he asked meekly.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and visibly relaxed. "Now, we take things as slowly as you need them to go, Harry."

Harry sat quietly for a long moment, his face scrunched in concentration. There had been a lot of words he'd had to guess the meaning of in the past few minutes. He had to struggle to piece together what he was sure of, what he knew he _didn't_ know, and what was really just a guess. "Who all is part of...this thing now?" he asked at length.

"The Ministry of Magic commissioned Hogwarts to handle situations like this," Dumbledore said. The wizarding community was short on child specialists and politicians had no respect for the amount of work that went into teaching. "I prefer to handle them personally, with the help of the student's Head of House. If you'd rather another arrangement..."

"No," Harry said quickly. "That will work just fine." Professor McGonagall was strict, but she was kind in a way he'd rarely seen. She wouldn't go all pitying on him like he was afraid everyone else would.

Dumbledore nodded. "Then just the two of us, as well as your...temporary guardians?" He directed the question at Lindy.

Lindy nodded. "Harry won't be the first child I've fostered out of an abusive home."

"That was me," Fate said softly.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. The simple fact of Fate's inferred past was surprising enough, but that the quiet girl was comfortable enough to admit it so readily was very surprising. It suggested a peace of mind few abuse victims reached. Or a complete sociopath incapable of assigning emotion to the fact of her own history, but Fate clearly did not suffer such a debility. It occurred to him that he should probably say something wise-sounding. "You raised a wonderful daughter," he said. "You must be proud."

"I am," Lindy agreed.

The uncomfortable moment passed and Harry had time to find another question. "Then...you would have been the one to leave me with the Dursleys in the first place, sir?"

"Were we in term, I would award points for making that connection so quickly," Dumbledore said with an unhappy laugh. "Yes, my boy, that unhappy duty was mine."

"Why them, sir?" Harry was too respectful to sound resentful or angry or really much of anything.

"Two reasons, Harry. First, they had the legal right. Unless they refused you or we had cause to suspect abuse, you belonged with them."

"But they would have gladly given me up," Harry protested. A weak protest, lacking passion. He was probably too overwhelmed to feel anger.

Dumbledore wasn't sure if answers would help him make sense of his life or just add to the confusion, but when asked direct questions, he found it best to answer. "Quite possibly, but the second reason...a few months ago, Harry, when you faced Voldemort, you channeled a powerful magic. Do you remember?"

Harry nodded. "I really didn't know what I was doing."

"No, such old magic is nearly forgotten. It is powerful, driven by intent and blood and love, but limited in its own way by all three."

"I don't understand, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had not wanted to tell you until you were older, Harry," he hedged. "Your mother created the strongest wards I have ever seen. They keep you safe from Voldemort and any who act in his name or towards his agenda. Over your life I have seen them deflect or block outright many of his followers. But for them to remain strong, you must be cared for by a guardian that carries your mother's blood. Your Aunt Petunia."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Aunt Petunia was keeping me safe?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "She knew of the wards, which is why the Dursleys never threw you from their home. Horrible as they were, they could not face the responsibility for your death."

Harry couldn't put that together with the ugly, monstrous Dursleys that lived in his memories. The child's mind remembered threats and near misses by thrown objects as moments of pure terror, far worse than the largely conceptual dangers of trolls and traps and dark wizards. It didn't make sense that they were keeping him safe from something worse...yet at the same time, he'd never really considered running away. So...there was worse stuff out there?

The introspection was too much for him and he shook his head to clear it. "But, if I'm not going back to the Dursleys," he hedged.

"The wards will last another year," Dumbledore said. "Then, when you are no longer a ward of your mother's family by any magical standard, they will fail."

Harry gulped. "So anyone I live with will be in danger of Voldemort," he whispered.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "That is not a concern you should worry about," he said firmly. "You don't have the age, skill, or knowledge to defend yourself. Professor McGonagall, myself, and Admiral Harlaown are more than capable of providing for your defense, no matter where you end up."

"Much more than capable," Lindy agreed. "But home defense is the easy part."

Dumbledore nodded. "The blood wards were effective to some degree even if Harry wasn't in the house," he agreed. "Subtle and elegant. Very Lily."

Harry perked up at this. "My mum was elegant?" he asked.

"James certainly thought so," Dumbledore said, although in truth he was far cruder with his choice of appreciations. Harry was only twelve and didn't need to hear about his parents' teenaged lust. "But I was referring specifically to her charm work. Your mother scored high marks on her NEWTs with silent magic that barely left a trace. Your father, on the other hand, gained equally high marks with the loudest and flashiest spells I have ever seen from a student." Again, not the whole truth. No one who saw Lily row against James would have claimed the redhead didn't have some frankly terrifying hexes in her repertoire, and no one who had been on the receiving end of a prank would have denied James's ability to be quiet when it suited him. But Harry hardly needed all the details of his parents' life dropped on his head all at once.

Besides, there were other issues at hand. "In any case," Dumbledore said, "we have again drifted. Harry, you are not to worry about Voldemort when choosing a guardian, am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry said automatically.

"Good," Dumbledore approved. He turned to Lindy. "I believe we are done for the day, then."

"I have one concern," Lindy said. "Dobby's warning."

Dumbledore nodded, face slowly turning grin. "Ah, yes. Hopefully his warning is nothing more than the delusion of an addled mind." From Harry's description, it was clear that Dobby was a very unwell elf. "If not, I am confident that my staff can handle the danger."

"That confidence didn't help identify Quirrell last year," Lindy said, not unkindly. "Are you sure the new professor is not a danger?"

"I have not yet chosen a professor," Dumbledore admitted, "although I was planning to today. It will be a remarkably easy decision, as only one man applied to the post."

Lindy frowned at the man's tone. "Doesn't sound promising. Is he any good?"

"He has impeccable credentials but his proposed curriculum is...weak."

Lindy hummed speculatively at that. "Fate, why don't you take Harry and meet up with Nanoha?" she suggested.

Fate heard the veiled order and nodded to Harry. "Okay mom," she said brightly. "Come on Harry." The children left the adults alone.

"What was that about?" Harry asked once they were out of the room.

"Mom's scheming," Fate said. "Come on, there's a great place we never showed you on the tour." She grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him down a corridor.

Harry hurried to keep up. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"The sparring room," Fate answered happily.


End file.
